Page 34 of Wicked Scandal

I laugh at the seriousness of his tone. “That’s a little dramatic, especially considering you did eat that old-ass cracker.”

“Mrs. J,” he chuckles along with me. “Did you just swear?”

Shit. I did. I just swore in front of a student. I’ve never done that before. But Wilder doesn’t feel like a student right now, and come next week, he won’t be anymore.

“What can I say, I’m human.” I shrug, trying not to read too much into the situation and end up forcing myself to run out of here.

He glances over his shoulder as he continues mixing our coffee. “I just never took you as someone who would use curse words. You’re so…perfect.”

I laugh because it’s hilarious that he thinks that. “No one is perfect, Wilder. Especially not me.”

He takes a step toward me and taps my nose. “Well, if I had to pick the one person in my life who is closest to perfection, it would be you.”

He turns back to the mugs and I let the facade on my face fall for just a moment because it’s too hard to smile right now.

Wilder’s words should make me feel joy, knowing he thinks so highly of me, but instead, all I feel is immense guilt. I’m not who he thinks I am. It’s not even my past that I hate myself for; it’s my present. It’s what I allow myself to endure without a fight. I could fight Troy. Many times I have thought about shooting him with the gun I bought.

I have it all planned out in my head. I would let him hurt me enough in an area where he has cameras and make sure they were recording, then I would run to our room and just shoot him. I know I would get away with it. With him dead, he couldn’t manipulate the system anymore and my secret would stay safe forever.

But I don’t. I fall down and let him continue to kick me until he’s had enough. I bow, I crawl, and I fucking obey. I am not perfect. Nothing about me is.

Right now, though, I have to put on a front. The same front I put on every day of my fucking life. For some reason, it hurts to do it with Wilder, but I have to. If he knew the truth, he would try to save me and that will only end with him getting hurt.

“You’re sweet, Wilder. But don’t ever let images fool you. What you see is not always what you get.”

Wilder spins around and hands me a cup of coffee before taking a sip of his own. He nods at the coffee in my hand, gesturing for me to take a sip, so I do. It’s not terrible, but it’s nothing special either. Just a whole lot of creamer in a small amount of coffee. Wilder is pretty proud of what he made me, so I’ll play along. Besides, it’s caffeine, so I’ll take it.

“And for the best part.” He reaches into the donut box and pulls out a powdered donut hole before handing it to me.

I snicker as I go to take a bite, but he stops me.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He grabs another donut then dunks it right into his coffee. “You're doing it all wrong. You gotta soak the donut then eat it.”

“Is that so?” I tilt my head to the side, unaware there are rules about how to enjoy a donut and coffee.

“Yup.” He says it so matter-of-factly I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. “Go ahead and give it a try.”

Watching him, I dip a small part of the donut in my coffee then bring it to my mouth. The sweet sugar coats my lips as I bite off a piece. It falls apart on my tongue like cotton candy, but the bitterness of the coffee is still there. He was right, it is good.

Chewing, I nod. “This is amazing.”

“Right?” He pops the rest of his donut hole in his mouth. “It’s two treats in one.”

I bring my cup to my mouth, the savory scent of coffee and vanilla filling my nostrils and immediately offering me a sense of peace. It’s strange how smells and sounds can do that. The bittersweet taste hits my lips, spreading warmth through my body. I raise my brows at Wilder, a smile forming on my lips before I take another sip.

“How’s the coffee?” he asks.

“Sweet. Very sweet,” I say, almost in a whisper. Just like him.

Holding his cup with two hands, he lowers it in front of his chest. “So,” he begins. “I have to agree with what you said, what you see is not always what you get, but I want to know what people get with you.”

I tilt my head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Play a game with me. If you came with a warning label, what would it say?”

"Oh boy.” I turn around and set my coffee down before chewing relentlessly on my bottom lip. “Honestly,” I say. “I think it would be read something along the lines of…run. Don’t look back. Just keep running.”

It’s painful to admit that, but it’s the most honest thing I’ve said in a very long time. My fingers grip the edge of the counter so tight they are almost numb in just a few seconds. I should come with a warning label. It would help keep everyone at a safe distance.

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